


Summer of '69

by bunsterjonez



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Rockstar AU, Sexy Times, bucky barnes wearing leather, rockstar!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:31:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunsterjonez/pseuds/bunsterjonez
Summary: Those were the best days of your life… and as much as you try, Bucky Barnes isn’t about to let you forget them. (A Rockstar!Bucky x Reader AU)





	1. Part 1

**1981**

_[“Babe, I’m gonna leave you…  
when the summer comes a rollin’…”](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4OMu5a8sFpcRCPCcsoEaov%3Fsi%3DmIV1B3OIT42suLVLPC_z_A&t=NTYzYmRjZmJjZWE2NTIxNjRiNzkyMTY5Mjc0NWU3MTA1ZTYwZmMwZCxCc1dhSkNiZw%3D%3D&b=t%3AuU_awgLjR7_hjiSyJVmybA&p=https%3A%2F%2Framblerumble.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F183968241607%2Fsummer-of-69-1&m=1) _

The long-forgotten tune echoed through your ears. Not yet dawn, the clock radio on your night stand beckoned you back in time…

A painful time.

_“I can hear it callin’ me the way it used to do  
I can hear it callin’ me back home!”_

Eyes still shut, your hand slammed down and gripped the radio, yanked it off the table and threw it across the room. Not even the deafening silence could rid you of the melancholy chords, bouncing around your head. And not even your eyelids, clamped down as hard as they were, could stop the tears dampening your pillow.

***

“Wanda, coffee stat!” **  
**

Sorting through the mess of papers on your desk was proving to be a futile task without caffeine. The night had left you restless, the song on the radio hanging over you like a bad omen all morning. A bad day for a publicity event, but Elektra needed the extra exposure. Her tour was about to kick off, and Fury would have your hide if additional sponsors weren’t secured.

“Here are the Gibson papers, the tour contract, more demo tapes,” Wanda said, dropping them on the chaotic mountain now growing on your desk. “And your coffee.”

“Oh thank god,” you said desperately grabbing the cup she handed you, and almost spitting out the contents as soon as you took a sip. “Ugh, it’s cold.”

“Chug it, there’s no time to brew a fresh pot,” Wanda said begrudgingly, attempting to pile up the papers you would need for today.

“Just dump some whiskey in it, I’ll take it to go,” you grumbled, picking up the folders she handed you, and glancing at the demos with disdain. “Who dropped these off?”

“Viz,” she said with a shrug, while you rolled your eyes.

“Tell your boyfriend I don’t need a talent scout,” you sighed, before rushing out the door.

“The car’s waiting outside, Y/N,” the receptionist by the elevator called out, phone in her ear.

“He’s enthusiastic,” Wanda said, following you into the elevator with your Irish coffee. “And he’s got good taste, he said he already heard one of them on the radio, more than–”

“You know he’s just making more work for you, right?” you said, rearranging your things as the elevator doors closed, muffling the next words out of the receptionist’s mouth.

“I’ll talk to him,” Wanda replied. “If you at least listen to one of the demos he picked out?”

“Oh, you’re the one giving me orders now,” you huffed, Wanda shooting you a satisfied smirk. You might be her superior, but Wanda had been at Fury Records far longer than you had. Though you’d become fast friends, dismissing her input was not a wise move. She hadn’t steered you wrong so far.

Reaching the lobby, you briskly stepped out through the opening elevator doors, Wanda at your heels, when a figure appeared, halting your stride. The receptionist’s unintelligible warning was suddenly explained as Franklin Nelson’s suited frame blocked your path.

“Not today, Foggy,” you said, sidestepping around him, and continuing towards the building’s exit.

“Today’s all we got, Y/N,” he said, falling in step with you. “Matt wanted to give you dibs on our new client.”

You suppressed a groan. Nelson & Murdock’s indie talent firm may be happy with peanuts as payment, but they weren’t Fury Records material. 

“How kind of him. He know how to use a phone, right?” You said, pushing through the double glass doors. Only then did you stop in your tracks, suddenly unable to form a coherent thought at the sight in front of you.

A figure was leaning against the black town car parked at the curb, wearing torn tight-fitting jeans, boots, and leather jacket, his shoulder-length hair waving in the light breeze. He took off his sunglasses, and it was as though bright blue pierced your entire being.

“Bucky,” you whispered, mostly to yourself. He pushed himself off the car and walked a few paces, closing the distance between you, as your breathing hitched. You tightened your grip on your things, desperately needing an anchor to hold on to.

“Hey.”

***

**_1969_ **

_“Hey!”  
_

_“Sorry,” Bucky called out, before seeing whom he’d bumped into. The dingy bar was packed, bodies pressed up against each other, tighter than canned sardines, as Bucky precariously tried to walk towards the backstage door with two drinks in hand. But the crowd seemed to disappear when his gaze met your eyes._

_Your annoyed expression turned to curious recognition, being jostled to and fro by the swarm of people around you. The guitar player, you thought to yourself. There were beads of sweat on his forehead, hair disheveled. He’d shed his jacket during the last song of the night, his toned arms in full display. And his eyes, unblinking, as though studying your every feature._

_Your sleeveless shirt dress was wrinkled from the night’s raucousness, a loose strap hanging off your shoulder, sultrily enrapturing him. How had he missed you in the crowd?_

_“Sorry,” he said again, his mind a complete blank._

_Your face relaxed into a smile, and he thought his heart would burst. “Buy me a drink?”_

_***_

“Y/N, James Barnes,” Foggy’s voice cut through your daze. “I believe you know each other.”

This couldn’t be a coincidence. Why? How? There they were, the same eyes that took your breath away, as though staring straight into your soul. But there were no shy smiles from you this time. An aching pang, growing since the early morning now settled uncomfortably within you, and you were at a loss.

Wanda, perceptively assessing the situation, and taking note of the uncomfortable fact that you still hadn’t managed to say a single word, grabbed your arm and started pulling you towards the car. “I’m so sorry Mr. Nelson, but we’re late.”

“Yes, Elektra’s press event. A lot of media, a lot of sponsors,” Foggy said. “Great spot for a someone like James to rub some shoulders.”

The pieces finally clicked into place. Your eyes narrowed, and swiftly turned back to face the two men, a hint of your usual confidence slowly coming back to you.

“Is that what this is about?” you said, handing your papers to Wanda, your voice growing in volume. Both Bucky and Foggy looked slightly startled at your change in demeanor. “Ambushing me so you can bogart my client’s event for your own agenda?”

“Y/N, it’s not like that,” Bucky chimed in, a hand on Foggy’s shoulder. “Look, your name came up, I mentioned I knew you–”

“Twelve years ago,  _James_ ,” you snapped. He didn’t miss the edge on your voice at his name. The sorrow in your gut was slowly turning into a shuddering anger, at his voice, his presence, his entire being… 

You were about to let loose a long-suppressed tirade, one he’d refused to listen to back then… but you opted for a sharp inhale and a shake of your head. You were good at this, keep it all bottled up. You had a job to do. And Bucky Barnes was not a part of your life. Not anymore. 

Fixing him with a cynical stare, you merely said, “Well, at least I know you’re still alive, that’s something.”

You made to close the door behind you, but he held it open, his hand closing over yours. “Wait.”

He was leaning in close enough for you to examine his face. A few healed scars shone under the lamppost lights. Slight lines at the edge of his eyes, darkened bags under the blue. His hand felt coarse and rough over yours, but just as strong as you recalled, his touch reigniting your mind once again.

***

_“I can’t do it,” you laughed at his attempt to teach you how to play after his set. Sitting on the backstage room suede couch, cradled between his legs, your back leaning on his chest as his fingers gently wrapped over yours, trying to place them on the strings. **  
**_

_“It’s easy,” he smiled, his cheek pressed against your ear, and his breath almost made you swoon. You bit your lip coyly, trying to pay attention, but the hardening bulge pressing at the small of your back was difficult to ignore._

_“Don’t try to clamp the strings down,” he said, “Just press down gently.” He demonstrated as he covered your index finger with his own, and holding your other hand, he put his thumb over yours to strum the strings, a much lighter tone than your previous try ringing around the room. “See?”_

_You turned your face towards him, feeling your cheeks flushed, and impossibly aware of the heat building within you. There they were, the eyes that had captured your mind and your heart implicitly and without mercy._

_***_

“I just need a chance, that’s all I’m asking,” Bucky continued in a lowered voice.

“I gave you plenty,” you countered in equally hushed tones, your eyes now desperately searching his for an explanation, an excuse. Anything that could justify him being here, today of all days, plaguing your existence and making you remember.

“Look, I’ll stay out of your way, I’ll do whatever you ask.” There was desperation now in his plea, and against your will you found yourself morbidly curious about the last twelve years.  _Whatever I ask, huh?_

Pursing your lips, you finally managed to tear your eyes away from Bucky’s gaze, and settled for scowling at Foggy. It was easier to keep your composure that way. “Orpheum Theater downtown,” you said sharply. “Ask for me at the back.” 

And yanking the car door rather forcefully, you settled in for the ride, absentmindedly watching Bucky disappear in the rearview mirror.

“What was that about?” **  
**

Wanda’s scrutinous eyes were on you, as you frantically shuffled papers within your folio at a loss of being able to do anything else to occupy your hands. Your mind was going a mile a minute, and grabbing your spiked coffee from Wanda’s hands, you chugged it in 2 gulps.

“There better be alcohol at this thing,” you said, the beginnings of a glower creeping your brow.


	2. Part 2

The Orpheum was a storm of frenzied activity. Camera flashes blurred your vision as soon as your car door opened, and the raucous voices from reporters bombarded your hearing. Normally, you’d be in your element; you’ve been doing this job for awhile, your reputation preceded you. But everything was different tonight.

Security ushered you through the doors, and Wanda led you past the throng in the lobby, up the stairs, down a hallway. Numbly you followed her, your mind still clouded over with memories and sensations you’d thought you’d long forgotten. You could only filter in snippets, whispers and frantic cries from desperate PAs, publicists, and assistants, none of which sounded promising.

“Pierce is here…”

Alexander Pierce, Elektra’s former label manager, no doubt hoping to gloat if anything went awry tonight.

“Put the Gibson merch front and center…!”

They had been your first secured sponsors, and if they didn’t feel catered to, they could pull out their support in an instant.

“Mars is MIA, we can’t find him…”

Elektra’s ensemble guitar player, most likely passed out in the alley behind the theater. He hadn’t been clean for months.

“Y/N, security says someone called Foggy’s asking for you…”

The throbbing pressure on your temple only grew in intensity. “Wanda…” you began, but your friend didn’t need to hear more. Pushing you into an empty dressing room, Wanda closed the door behind you, and you could hear her sharp voice shouting out commands as you lay your head down on the sofa cushion, shutting your eyes without hesitation.

This entire day was just a horrible mistake. You felt like crying, could feel the burning sting building in your periphery… but your stubborn self wouldn’t let you in good conscience. You’d shed enough tears for the likes of Bucky Barnes. And you’d be damned if you’d let him ruin the rest of the night.

Emitting a quiet groan, you rose from the couch, chancing a quick look in the mirror. Lack of sleep was all over your face, your hair already a disaster, your clothes wrinkled. But a volunteer saved you from your inevitable resignation as she peeked in through the door with a garment bag and Elektra’s makeup box in hand. “Ms. Maximoff thought you might need this.”

A note in her fancy scrawl was tucked in with the gown:  ** _“The after-party’s all yours. –W”_**

To say the dress was risqué  was an understatement. Black, long, your right arm sleeveless, and your left thigh just about exposed. You sighed, torn between both frustration and gratefulness towards Wanda. You were here to schmooze after all, and your wrinkled pantsuit would do you no favors tonight.

__[And if I say to you tomorrow](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=denied%3Adenied%3Aspotify%3Atrack%3A4yT3gAXoItGydjQxXzr8Jr&t=NDg0OWU3NDJiMzc1N2RlODQ1MmIxNWUwMWNkYmMxZTg2ZWIwNzM4MixJR2UwRm1MRg%3D%3D&b=t%3AuU_awgLjR7_hjiSyJVmybA&p=https%3A%2F%2Framblerumble.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184074856992%2Fsummer-of-69-2&m=1)  
Take my hand, child come with me  
It’s to a castle I will take you  
Where what’s to be, they say will be

The music led you down the now empty hallways, Elektra’s voice and the song’s melody luring you back stage. A few people were rooted to the spot, some mouths hanging open, others with glazed looks on their faces,hypnotized by the tune. It wasn’t until you pushed your way to a spot behind the curtains that you understood why.

_…Catch the wind, see us spin_  
Sail away leave today  
Way up high in the sky…

Elektra, shimmying and singing her heart out, spotlights shining on her carefully chosen red shimmering outfit. And playing next to her, beneath the glow of the lighting rig, was Bucky. Your eyes widened at the sight, and wandered across from where you stood to see a smug-looking Foggy, grinning and bobbing his head at the beat.

But the allure of the energy flowing from the stage was too much for you to avert your eyes for long. Bucky was now wailing away on the guitar, back to back with Elektra… and the crowd was loving every second of it.

_You really shouldn’t go_  
It only goes to show  
That you will be mine  
By takin’ our time…

“They look good together,” the sharp voice of Alexander Pierce behind you felt like bitter chill. You tried to quell the shivers running down your spine. You tried to clear your throat.

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes traveling back to Bucky, harmonizing with Elektra and making himself quite at home on that stage, as though no time had passed at all from the last time you saw him. “They do.”

The way he moved, his fingers deftly on the strings, hips thrusting to and fro, the expression of full elation on his face. His guitar as though an extension of himself; it had always been a part of him. He  _was_ the music. It was enough to bring back the cascade of memories you’d tried to push back all these years. You thought your brain might collapse under the weight of them. And then his eyes met yours.

***

_Blue wasn’t the word you’d use to describe them. His eyes were like translucent clouds against a bright azure sky. Hauntingly beautiful, seemingly capturing your soul behind those dark lashes. He played like a god, a dark-haired Apollo, savage and pure soul flowing from his guitar, surrounding him in an ethereal glow whenever he was onstage._

_That night his eyes were only yours, never failing to find you amongst the cheering crowd._

***

“Excuse me,” you turned and pushed past Pierce, desperate to dash back to the safe haven of the empty dressing room. Away from the cheers, the screams, the music.  _His_ music.

_I’ve got to get out of here._

But before reaching the door, an obstacle of agents crowded you in the hallway, pushing flyers, business cards, and small merchandise into your hands, pledging their undying allegiance to Elektra’s tour.

“Is James going to be part of Elektra’s ensemble, Y/N?”  
  
“What happened to Mars?”

“When are Elektra and James recording together?”

As graciously as you could, you managed to shake them off by assuring them you’d answer all their questions, if they called Fury Records for an appointment.

“Nothing’s set in stone… I’m glad you all enjoyed tonight… No plans to record, let’s see how the tour goes first…”

It was with a shaky sigh that you leaned against the closed door, trying to regain your composure.  _Get it together._ The night was far from over.

But you hadn’t even taken a few steps towards the mirror, when the clamoring crowd could be heard briefly as door opened and closed behind you. You whirled around, your hands finding the edge of the vanity counter for support.

“You hiding from someone in particular?”

Bucky’s sultry drawl was threatening to transport you back to where it all began. But your mind couldn’t –  _wouldn’t_  – take it anymore. Nostalgia was unbearable, dangerous. But anger? That was easy.

Straightening your back, you looked him square in the face. “So much for not hijacking my client’s event for your own purposes.”

“Had to get your attention somehow, sugar,” he said through a sly smile, walking a few steps towards you.

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” you snapped, stepping away so quickly you almost tripped over your ridiculous dress. “ _You_  don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“Sorry,” His stare bore into you, smoldering. Not sorry at all. “It’s hard to stick to formalities when you’re all dolled up like that.”

You felt goosebumps on your sleeveless arm, and you silently cursed yourself at your own delirium.

“What do you think is going to happen now?” You said haughtily, attempting to maintain a modicum of your pride.  _You get hurt, hurt them back._  “You take over my event, you play your heart out, you become a star… and what? You get me back?”

He shook his head, a breathy chuckle on his lips. “Is it working?” He still moved closer, the leather pants hugging every curve and quad as he closed the distance between you.

“I can’t afford to live in the past, James,” you retorted, stepping back. “Things change.”

He tilted his head letting out a dubious hum. ”Hmm, can’t have changed that much.” His eyes glittered as your back hit solid wall behind you.

“And how would you know?”

“I can always tell with you.”

The softness in his words caught you by surprise, and Bucky took his chance. As his lips pushed onto yours, his hand traveled to your face, his thumb caressing your neck, and you were helpless, breathless, falling deeper into his kiss and matching the passionate rhythm with which he trailed your tongue with his.

***

_Hands roved around your body, and your gasps only fueled his lust. It was pure ecstasy, behind silk curtains and foggy windows. Kisses trailing down your neck, and fingers grasping at your hair, simultaneously delicate and powerful, as though playing his finely-tuned guitar._

_There were no words spoken until afterwards, when you’d both caught your breaths, and you were wrapped in his arms, and he was stroking your cheek, admiring you in the afterglow of what you’d just done._

_“Don’t you dare break my heart, Bucky Barnes.”_

***

Bucky pulled away abruptly as a soft moan caught in your throat. Between heavy gasping breaths exchanged between you, you were at a loss. The fire had been stoked, though the pain was still lingering after all these years… but the prospect of a balm as familiar as this to dull the aching hole in your heart was intoxicatingly appealing.

“Why did you do that?” you said, a desperate whimper on your lips.

“You  _know_ why.” Bucky no longer had that mischievous glint, there was only longing and desire as his eyes roved over your face, your body, that slit on your dress…

“You can’t…I can’t…” What was  _wrong_ with you? But you knew the answer.

His lips hovered over yours, hot breath on your skin, electrifying every cell of your being. Your eyes shut instinctively, trying to block out all your other senses, but it was useless.  _It’s not fair._

“It’s not fair…”

“What’s not fair?” His whisper made you shudder.

“You. Here. Now.” You slowly opened your eyes, unable to stop a single tear. “After everything…”

“I’m getting my second chance,” he said, a firmness in his voice you were sorely lacking in any way. His eyes were searching yours now, like fog lights in a storm. “I learned the hard way. I’m not losing you again.”

“Bucky, I…”

Both his hands were on your face now, as he said fervently, “I  _never_ stopped loving you, Y/N.”

“Then why–”

The knock at the door made you both jump, but Bucky was relentless. “Don’t answer.” His fingers stroked your cheek, and it took everything in your power not to lean into his touch.

The draw was strong. It was pulling you deeper and deeper into something you knew you wouldn’t be able to back down from. If you said yes… if you let yourself feel this again… You thought the thrill of heartbreak was worth it back in ‘69. But now…

_Knock Knock._

A familiar voice followed.

“Y/N, It’s Fury. Can we come in?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Just a minute!” you managed to weakly call out, eliciting a frustrated grunt from Bucky. He rubbed the scruff on his face as he turned away from you, and you swore he took your breath along with him.

On shaky legs you reached the vanity mirror, thankfully catching your smeared lipstick and hastily re-applying it before the door swung open. Fury, a muted smile on his face, strode briskly inside. But his earnest congratulations on Elektra’s successful showcase became distant as you noticed who accompanied him. The sight of Alexander Pierce made your heart constrict further in your chest.

“Ah, good, you’re already here,” Fury turned his attention to Bucky, now leaning against the wall, a shadow of everything that had been – that could be – darkening his features.

“I hope we weren’t interrupting,” Pierce’s words were aimed at you, noting your discomfort at his mere presence, the sinister glint in his eye shaking you to your very core.

“Just some unfinished business,” Bucky said, his gaze still on you.

“Well, son,” Fury sat down on the couch, and Bucky’s regarded him with a withering look. “Business is why I’m here. Alex here thinks you should join Elektra’s tour ensemble for the foreseeable future, and I’m inclined to agree with him.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Nick,” you began, a shaky smile on your face. “Shouldn’t we wait until Monday to talk this over with–?”

“Elektra’s flying out first thing tomorrow, isn’t she?” Pierce cut you off, calculating eyes on your narrowed ones. “There’s no time to waste.”

“If I recall correctly, you have no say on anything involving Elektra anymore, Alex,” you snapped.

“I’m only trying to help here,” his eyes flashed beadily.

“I don’t need your help,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Why don’t we ask the man of the hour? I’m sure it’s no mere coincidence he was here to save the day?” Nick turned his head towards Bucky, who let out a soft chuckle.

“Nah, I can’t take all the credit,” he said, and you could swear the sultriness in his voice, reserved for your ears only, was there on purpose. “Always had a hard time sayin’ no to her.”

“We both know that’s not true,” you glared at him.

“Regardless,” Pierce clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, and began leading him towards the door. “Talent like yours shouldn’t be wasted, especially now. All eyes are on you, my friend.”

Bucky glanced back towards you, confirming Pierce’s statement, as he allowed himself to be led out the room. “And you’re going to need someone looking out for your best interests…”

“What the hell are you doing?” you rounded on Nick as soon as their voices disappeared down the hall. Nick, in turn stood up, his imposing frame seemingly filling up the room.

“No, what the hell do you think you’re doing?,” he frowned at you, halting your indignation momentarily.

“Letting Pierce call the shots on Elektra’s tour is not something I’m prepared to do –”

“So while you’re looking that way, he’s swiping the biggest golden goose we’ve had in two years right from under us,” Nick’s admonishment gave you pause. “How long have you had Barnes’ demo on your desk? Because Alex recognized him as soon as he started playing.”

You silently cursed Viz, wherever he was.

“I don’t need a demo to know he can play,” you countered defensively.

“No doubt.”

There was a tense pause as you weighed the full gravity of the situation under Fury’s steely stare. This tour was Elektra’s best chance of getting out from under Pierce’s shadow once and for all. It hadn’t been mere coincidence or bad luck when she was unable to book a good venue, until you got your hands in her paperwork. Pierce had the pull to do a lot of damage to both of your careers if he got his way. And if Bucky signed with him…

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Nick’s exasperation pulled you out of your dwelling. “Get out there, and make sure Barnes is on our side, before Pierce shoulders himself into this tour one way or another.”

You tried to slow down your heavy breaths. “Nick, it’s complicated–”

“Then un-complicate it,” his severe tone reverberated in your ears. “Before we end up in a situation we’ll both regret.”

***

“I’ll admit, getting him to cover for Mars was a stroke of genius I didn’t know you were capable of.”

“Oh please,” Wanda scoffed, as she kept fussing over your outfit and your hair, matching your pace on the way to the main hall. “I told you Viz heard him on the radio, you’re the one who wouldn’t listen.”

Suppressing a biting retort, you opted for a low and anxious hum that got caught in your throat. Nick’s warning was fresh in your mind, but Bucky cornering you in the dressing room even more so. His touch. His breath. His lips…

You gulped.

The muffled chattering from people spilling out from the theater grew louder, as you and Wanda reached the mezzanine overlooking the hall. Everything had been set up to your specifications: the dance floor, the music, multiple catered bars all around. The lounge room doors, leading off the main space, were left open for those seeking a private reprieve from the excitement.

It was through one of these that you spotted Bucky walking out, Pierce whispering in his ear at his left, and the stunning Elektra at his right.

A twinge that had nothing to do with nerves seemed to stab at your heart, and you thought for a second you might tumble over the railing. But Wanda’s grip on your hand and a light squeeze steadied you.

This was business, pure and simple. A blatant lie, confirmed as such when Bucky glanced upwards, eyes locked onto yours.

***

_“There’s been an accident…”_

_The fluorescent lights and smells of iodoform bombarded your senses as you briskly made your way through the hospital halls._

_The doctors did everything they could at the time, but…_

_“Massive nerve damage to his left hand…”_

_“Surgery’s risky, years of rehabilitation…”_

_“He may never play again.”_

***

“I need a drink.” You whirled around, breaking the magnetic connection, and walking towards a bar, desperate to engage in some inane conversation about stock options with a suited-up sponsor. Anything to quell the rampant beating of your heart.

It was only after your second scotch on the rocks and a stern glare from Nick that you took a few deep breaths, fixed your practiced smile, and turned to face the music… only to almost bump into Bucky, standing right in front of you, the blue in his eyes somehow more intense, and the lingering scent of alcohol mingled into that intoxicating allure he carried with him everywhere.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice stoking the embers that had begun to simmer in your core from earlier that night.

“Bucky,” but as soon as you placed your hand on his chest to push away the beautifully terrifying temptation, you felt yourself get swept towards the dance floor. Inescapable.

His left hand held on to your right, fingers cold to the touch; seeking a warmth you’d all but forsaken, having coated yourself in a hard shell after all these years. He sought to melt the ice away, and you were all but ready to let him. Leaning into him, your left hand curled around his shoulder as he pulled you in closer against him, and it all felt oh, so familiar…

“Your hand,” you said, and your voice caught in your throat. You tried again. “Seems you made a full recovery, after all.”

He lightly squeezed his grip on you, a warm jolt flowing from the seemingly involuntary gesture. “Not exactly,” he murmured. “I got lucky. Hot-shot surgeon felt like making a miracle happen.” He breathed out a chuckle, close to your ear.

“I thought you didn’t believe in miracles,” you blurted out automatically; your head blocking your heart like a shield. Don’t get hurt again.

He sighed, as though aware of your mental defenses. “I didn’t believe in a lot of things back then.” He pulled his head away from your temple, eyes back on yours, imploringly trying to make you understand. “It wasn’t my best look, I admit it.”

There it was, that pull, that draw, deeper, more soulful than ever before. You were itching to throw caution to the wind, push your lips against his and taste the sweetness that had been missing from your life since that Summer just one more time…

Your eyes fluttered, attempting to shut off the wave of scattered emotions flowing through you. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, Bucky.”

You’d stopped moving long ago; the music changed already, but you both still stood wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Tell me you still remember.” he trailed his fingers down your spine, his other hand still grasping yours, his lips whispering the words into your skin, imprinting them on your soul.

How could you not remember? Every feeling, every whisper, every moment…vividly. Vibrantly.

“Tell me you still love me.”

Your eyes snapped open, expecting a cocky smirk, but there was nothing but earnest truth on his face.

“Just like that?” you whispered, terrified. Your hand squeezed his this time, seeking the strength you were lacking.

“Just like that.”

You had seen him lose all hope twelve years ago. Had he really kept this one alive in his heart all this time when you’d forsaken it altogether? You felt your legs tremble, your resolve crumbling to nothing, shedding your second skin for him to burn against.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this again,” you voice was small, but bursting with fervent longing.  

“I wasn’t strong enough for you,” he murmured into your cheek. “Let me pick up the slack this time.”

***

_“James, please!”_

_Loud knocks on the other side of his shut door, your pleading cries and exhausted sighs, as he shut his eyes to stop the ebb of tears, and blot out the sight of his shattered hand._

_You stopped visiting after a week; your whispered “good-bye” the last time he ever heard you. Your voice was now replaced by the loud echoes of the angry words he’d spat out in grief and couldn’t take back._

_Doctor Stephen Strange’s proposal came to him long after you’d packed up and left town. A chance to get his life back seemed meaningless without you. But it was a start._

_The metal pins and needles holding his nerves together throbbed in his skin, and your absence burned a hole in his heart._

_“It’s a second chance, James,” the voice of Doctor Strange seemingly haunting him. “I suggest you take it.”_

***

“We want to thank everyone for coming, for your support of this tour, and your faith in me…” Elektra addressed the crowd, red sequined gown glittering as she stood on the raised platform, all eyes on her as Nick was welcomed to stand next to her.

“I’d like to invite the newest member of our family at Fury Records, Mr. James Barnes to the stage…”

Pierce had slinked away somewhere, no doubt off to lick his wounds at the announcement. Your mind was a reeling whirlwind, Bucky’s fingers slipping form yours as he took up his guitar, an acoustic melody enrapturing the audience in his unavoidable spell.

_[Could you hear me calling?](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0jWYqV3YgQ5PjqeZ7qCoOB%3Fsi%3D-AQbUcmkRPePe4aZi6x1tA&t=NGY5NjMxNjRlNzQyYjJlYmEyODRjMTk4ODA0NTlmYmE1MzA2NjhjNSxuMFZQTDU4Uw%3D%3D&b=t%3AuU_awgLjR7_hjiSyJVmybA&p=https%3A%2F%2Framblerumble.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F185021959312%2Fsummer-of-69-3&m=1) _   
_did you hear me cry?_   
_do you feel me falling,_   
_frozen in the light?…_

It was just as you remembered, his soft voice bringing you back to nights under warm stars, lingering caresses, bodies swaying to the beat of both your hearts. You thought he had come to haunt you with memories of your broken past. But he was actually giving you a future… one you thought you’d never need, but were just now realizing you ached for.

_If I were me I’d wait forever._   
_what’s your hurry? what’s your hurry?_   
_never learned how to say never._   
_what’s your worry? what’s your worry?_   
_once upon a time - the end…_

For a moment the Bucky Barnes that hypnotized you back in ‘69 seemed to replace the weathered version onstage; the music flowing from his veins, latching onto your mind and soul, mending the frayed edges of your heart, and a swell of hope filled you to the brim.

Your eyes beckoned him to you once his song was finished. Behind curtained pillars, out of sight from the crowds at last, your fingers trailed up his chest, and his hands gripped you close in the shadows. A lingering gaze on the shining blue that you could swear would give your hiding place away. 

You placed a timid peck on his lips, testing the waters, wondering if it was safe to dive in. Bucky replied in full with a hungry kiss, his nimble fingers tracing every inch of your body, making you sigh and hum sweetly as he strummed you lithely, like his most treasured guitar.

“I love you,” you gasped against his mouth, as he took your words and breathed them in, as he lovingly regarded your pleasured state. The risk was nothing, if you could have this back: his lustful eyes, widening smile, dark locks tangled in your fingers, and the sweetest words you could ever hope to hear from him.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
